kbinnz - Harry's New Home

A knock interrupted him before he could get a really good rant going. A flick of the wand opened the door and Harry tumbled in, flushed and breathless.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed before Snape could snarl at him for his tardiness. "Professor McGonagall and Oliver kept me forever. They kept making me catch that little golden thing. Over and over and over til I thought my fingers would fall off. They just kept getting more excited and saying 'Once more!' I don't know what was so special about it, do you?"

Snape glared at the urchin. So much for his House's chances at the Cup. Given how the little idiot was so blithely prattling on about capturing the Snitch "over and over", Gryffindor would be nearly impossible to beat.

Undaunted by his guardian's lack of response, Harry swung his bookbag off his shoulder and squirmed, stretching out his back muscles and rubbing his bum. "Sitting on a broom for that long hurts, you know? I had no idea that Quidditch was such hard work. I'm going to be sore tomorrow. It feels like when I had to weed all of Aunt Petunia's flower beds."

Snape scowled harder at this reminder of how those Muggles had pressed a Wizarding child into servitude. In one pace he was at Harry's shoulder, ignoring both the boy's reflexive flinch and subsequent embarrassed flush. "Where does it hurt?" he demanded, probing along the boy's back and shoulders.

Harry blissfully closed his eyes, wriggling in delight at the impromptu massage. "Urr, right there. Between my shoulder blades. And lower down my back."

Snape frowned at the knots along the boy's back. His trapezius was wildly overstressed and his lumbar area had been wrenched by all the acrobatics. "Where else?"

"Erm, well, lower," Harry admitted, coloring. "You knowтАжwhere you sit."

Ignoring Harry's embarrassed squeaks, Snape bent him over and continued his examination. Yes, Harry's gluteus maximus muscles had been abused by too much exercise, and his backside and thighs were likely chafed and sore from gripping the broomstick through numerous dives and twists. McGonagall was a complete fanatic, Snape snarled to himself, irate that the witch would encourage his ward to overstress his body in this way. Hadn't she realized that the boy's muscles were exhausted? A few more minutes and his strength would have failed, most likely just as he was risking his fool neck on some absurd stunt those idiots encouraged.

"Ow. Ouch," Harry protested as Severus' strong fingers kneaded his tender back and bum, but he had to admit he felt a lot better after the muscles were forced out of their spasm.

Snape released the boy and Accio'd a potion and jar from his storeroom. Harry watched curiously. "Drink this," the professor ordered.

Harry wrinkled his nose. He might be new to the Wizarding World, but he'd already learned how foul the vast majority of potions tasted. He sneaked a glace at the professor, hoping he might be able to wheedle his way out of it, but one look at the man's stern face and he knew better. He sighed and accepted the vial. Holding his nose with one hand, he tossed the contents down his throat with the other.

"UGH!" he exclaimed, shuddering violently. "That tastes worse than dirty socks."

"As you might expect, considering they are the main ingredient," Snape said drily.

Harry stared at him. "Really?" he whispered, more than a little nauseated.

"Idiot. Of course not." Snape rolled his eyes. Gryffindors! "I can see that Remedial Potions will figure prominently in your future, Mr Potter. Before our next class, you will present me with twelve inches on the actual ingredients of a healing potion."

Harry laughed out loud. "You got me!" he admitted cheerfully, much to Snape's confusion. He had just insulted the brat and assigned him тАУ rather unfairly for a first year in his first week of classes тАУ a punishment essay, and Harry thought it was a good joke?

Harry stretched happily. Professor Snape just kept on taking care of him. Even though тАУ as Professor McGonagall had taken pains to explain тАУ Harry would be playing against Snape's own House Quidditch team, the man had been interested in his tryouts. What was more, the instant Harry had so much as mentioned not feeling well, he'd been all over him, figuring out what was wrong and making it better. Harry hadn't really meant anything by the mild complaint about soreness. The Dursleys had liked hearing him groan, feeling it showed that he was working hard, so he had gotten into the habit of moaning a bit. Not enough to be guilty of whinging, mind you, just enough to indicate he wasn't slacking.

But never in a million years would his aunt or uncle have rubbed his back тАУ or bum! тАУ to make it feel better, let alone given him medicine. Harry squirmed in sheer happiness. The professor took really, really good care of him.

He was funny too. Pretending that Harry was really drinking dirty socks. Harry grinned. That was a pretty good one тАУ he'd have to see if he could get any of the other kids to believe it. And giving him permission to study ahead? That was another sign of how nice Professor Snape was. The Dursleys would never even let him do his assigned homework, lest he make Dudley look even dumber than he was, and most of his teachers therefore decided he was as lazy and stupid as his cousin. Any questions Harry might have had about his schoolwork were answered briefly and simply, since such a slow student couldn't possibly understand complex concepts. Yet Professor Snape not only expected him to know the answers, he also wanted Harry to try to figure things out for himself when he didn't.

Harry liked reading тАУ at the Dursleys it had been his only escape тАУ so being told to look something up was a welcome reason to spend time with his books. And knowing that the professor was willing to take the time to look over what he found, and tell him if he was right or wrongтАж Well, that was more effort than anyone else had ever been willing to spend on Harry.

"How do you feel now?" Snape asked, wondering if the potion had unexpectedly combined with the toxins from the overstressed muscles to create a paradoxical giddiness. Why else would the boy тАУ er, brat тАУ be grinning to himself in such a peculiar way.

"Better," Harry answered instantly. He gave his bottom a last rub. "Still a bit sore, sir, but lots better than before. That potion is brilliant, even if it does taste awful!"

Snape scowled, more out of principle than anything else, and handed the boy the small jar. "Rub this salve into your backside and thighs before bedtime and again in the morning. Those muscles are particularly strained, as you have not flown before. You will need to build them up gradually over the next several weeks." He paused as a thought struck him. "Did Wood show you how to stretch before and after your workout?"

Harry shook his head blankly. "No sir. You stretch the broom?"

"Idiot." Snape shook his head in annoyance. "You stretch your muscles in order to avoid the very difficulties you have just experienced." His eyes narrowed as he contemplated how he would exact revenge on the Gryffindor captain. He would teach Wood to ignore the welfare of a first year in his mindless excitement over finding a new Seeker.

"Sir?" Harry's voice roused him from pleasant fantasies of Wood whimpering as he started scrubbing out his fifteenth cauldron of the night. Oh, he'd show that twit what a sore back felt like!

"What?" he demanded.

"Shouldn't we be going to the Weasleys, sir?" Harry asked tentatively. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the Weasleys had changed their mind. After all, the professor was a great guardian, and he was already taking better care of Harry than he'd ever dared hope. Having a second family on top of that, well, it almost felt greedy. Harry would have understood if the Weasleys had decided they had enough kids to keep them busy and didn't need a worthless fre тАУ oh oh. Harry caught himself in mid-thought and looked guiltily at the professor. Given the man's other talents, Harry wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he could read minds as well.